Page 106 of Ghosts Don't Cry
For weeks since my birthday, we’ve spent most evenings wrapped around each other under blankets in the factory. We’ve whispered to each other, our bodies tangled together. We’ve learned each other in ways that felt like we were building toward a future. And now he’s behaving as though none of that ever happened.
He makes excuses for why I can’t come and see him. He no longer spends his free time in the library. He’s never in the factory when I ignore his refusal to see me, and show up anyway.
I don’t know where he’s going, or what’s changed, or why he’s holding himself in a way that looks like he’s trying not to fall apart. But Idoknow something isverywrong.
Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were as chaotic as ever at home, and I wasn’t able to find an excuse to slip away and check on him. But today, the day after Christmas, is quieter, and with the weather taking a turn for the worse I’ve almost convinced myself that something could have happened to Ronan.
My parents didn’t want me driving anywhere with heavy snow on the ground, but I argued that I wanted to see Cassidy for a couple of hours since I wouldn’t get to see her again until after New Year.
I need to see Ronan, make sure he’s okay, and give him the Christmas gift I’d bought him—a new hoodie, some thick socks, and two notebooks.
I suck in a sharp breath when I get out of the warmth of my car, and wonder if I can convince him to come and sit with me inside it for a while. Snow crunches underfoot and my breath curls in front of me. It scares me that I’m going to turn up one of these days and find him frozen to death, and for the hundredth time, I think about telling my parents about his living conditions.
But Ronan had made me swear not to say anything, and I don’t want to break my promise to him, even when he’s treating me like he wants nothing to do with me anymore.
Reaching onto the back seat of my car, I grab the flask of coffee and sandwiches I made before leaving, then set off across the parking lot. The factory is silent inside, except for the wind rattling against broken windows as I make my way through the debris-covered hallway to the room Ronan has made his home. He’s standing near the far wall, the dim glow of the moon carving shadows across his face.
His stance is odd, slightly off, leaning to one side. His breathing is slow and shallow. In the dim light, I can see the sweat beading his temple, which makes no sense because it’sfreezing in here. He’s staring out of the window, yet his gaze seems unfocused, pinned to nothing.
He doesn’t turn when I step inside.
“You shouldn’t be here.” His voice is even, emotionless.
My stomach flips. “Since when?”
There’s a beat of silence before he replies. “Since now.”
I take a breath, and set down the flask and bag of food. “I brought you some coffee.”
“I don’t want it.”
I swallow, bracing myself for an argument. “Ronan?—”
“Fucking go home.”
“I have something?—”
“Get the fuck out of here. I. Don’t. Fucking. Want. It.”
I flinch. He’s never spoken to me this way before. I move closer to him, and his entire body reacts. Tension rolls through him, shoulders straightening, jaw clenching. He forces his weight to one side, leaning away from me, but there’s a slowness to his movements that makes alarms ring in my head.
“Are you hurt?”
His head jerks toward me, and I catch a wild look in his eyes before his lashes lower. But it’s too late, I’ve already seen the glazed quality in them.
“Isaidgo home.”
“Ronan, talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
Every instinct I have is screaming that there’s something wrong. “That’s bullshit.”
Emotions flash across his face—anger, frustration, pain, and something else that I can’t quite read. His mouth twists, and when he next speaks, his voice is harder.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Lily. You’re fucking exhausting. You show up here night after night, acting like I need you. I can’teven fucking breathe without you hovering. Do you ever fucking stop?”
The words are a slap I didn’t see coming. “That’s not what I?—”
